


White

by justanotherdavina



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Asexual Relationship, But very slight - Freeform, Crowley's Fall (Good Omens), Fluff, M/M, Wings, a brief mention of it anyway, just basically fluff really, maybe a slight angst, stars discussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 13:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19993237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherdavina/pseuds/justanotherdavina
Summary: It's their last day on Earth before Aziraphale and Crowley take a well earned vacation of a century.But a century becomes two weeks.“What?” He beamed, looking at Crowley with wide eyes and his hands on his own chest as always.“Go on, angel,” Crowley replied, “what other stars do you know?”





	White

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this right after I finished watching the series. I hope you'll enjoy this as much as I did writing it.

“You think,” Aziraphale started, looking briefly outside the window of Crowley’s place, “they will be good without us?” He asked, turning a bit towards the demon.

Crowley shrugged a shoulder quietly. This time, his eyes were not hidden by the thick and dark glasses he used to wear. His snake-like pupils were on full display, beautiful as they had always been.  
Maybe this time, there was just that particular change of light that made them look better from where Aziraphale was seated.

“Don’t know,” he slurred, “humans have a history of surviving.” He declared, eventually.  
They were seated together at the table, eating take out from Ritz (sometimes Crowley could be really persuasive) and chatting like two six thousand years old friends.

“They do.” The angel confirmed, clasping his hands together in his lap.

The silence that fell between them was comfortable. It was like a soft blanket of warm clouds around them, while Aziraphale tasted the last tidbit of exquisite food on his palate. As always, Crowley was patiently waiting for Aziraphale to finish his meal. It had been like that for ages, eons, nothing changed after Armageddidn’t. Nothing would.

“How was that?” Crowley asked, tapping his fingers against his own chin in a thoughtful gesture.

“Delicious, I’d say.” The angel said, before clearing his throat, “Delectable,” he specified. He used a napkin to brush his mouth off of scraps.

Crowley made a vague gesture of approval, “Hope it repays last dinner we had together,” he said, quietly.

“Absolutely,” Aziraphale confirmed, spreading his hand on the table, “you finished quite earlier,” he stated, looking down at Crowley’s empty plate.

“Oh, yes,” the demon shrugged, “just enjoying the view of you eating, angel,” he finished. His tone was somehow playful, but the angel didn’t understand it.

Aziraphale stopped himself from pulling up a half delighted expression, and he cleared his throat instead, “did you find the right star?” He asked, taking a sip of nice red wine from his glass.

Crowley hummed, slurring something under his breath, before actually replying, “yes,” he said, proudly, “Proxima Centauri seems like a nice place,” he explained, “looked it up in my book,”

Aziraphale frowned slightly, “Wasn’t it Alpha Centauri?”

“Yes,” Crowley confirmed, with a lame shrug of his shoulder, “but you didn’t seem too fond of the idea,” he just muttered out.

Aziraphale seemed to think it over for a couple of seconds, while Crowley pouted at him. It was not something he did because he really needed to pout _for_ something; Crowley just pouted whenever he felt like doing so and it amused Aziraphale beyond his own comprehension.

“It was a bit inconvenient at the time,” the angel hurried to reply, “my side wouldn’t have liked that idea,” he clarified with a small, angelic smile on his mouth.

“We have Canopus,” Crowley tried then, gesturing towards the ceiling vaguely, “It’s even visible to naked eye,” he made a face at himself, almost rolled his eyes, “well, humans’ eyes,”

“Is it?” Aziraphale seemed almost appalled by the information.

“‘Course angel, _off to the stars_ doesn’t mean that far from Earth,” Crowley said, rising up from the chair, “so, what do you think?” He asked, resting his hands on the backrest.

Aziraphale tapped his hand twice softly on the table, musing on the demon’s words, “what about Sirius?” The angel asked, curious, “isn’t it one of the stars you helped creating?”

Crowley’s mouth twisted in a doubtful expression, his slit pupils widening a bit at the same time, as he shrugged once again, “I really don’t remember,” he mumbled out, slurring the words just as the usual, “maybe,” he added, his voice cracking in the middle of the word, “there are too many starts out there, angel; but I probably did,” he confirmed, letting go of the chair to walk around the table and sit on it.

He let a leg swing downwards.

Aziraphale eyed him, half suspiciously, “don’t trick me, you wily serpent,” he warned, trying to sound at least as scary as he intended to be in his head.

Crowley gave him a sly smile, “You said Sirius,” he replied, ignoring the angel’s word, “are we going there, Aziraphale?”

Crowley’s eyes seemed to flash that strange and powerful yellow even more, while fixing his eyes on Aziraphale.

“We’re going off to the stars,” Aziraphale commented, mostly to himself.

“Together,” the demon said, making Aziraphale rise his blue eyes on him.

He was still smiling at the angel. His strange, _serpentine_ smile.

“Yes,” Aziraphale confirmed, “together.” He seemed happy with himself, before a thought crossed his mind. It seemed like he had just been stung by a jellyfish, “but, will we keep an eye on Earth?” He asked, sounding afraid.

Crowley widened his eyes, “O’ course,”

“Godfathers,” Aziraphale said, just like he had done the first time he and Crowley had drunk together in his bookshop.

“Exactly,” Crowley hopped down from the table and looked briefly at his still very terrified plants, gazing at how verdant they had finally grown. He was kinda proud of them, he had to admit it at least to himself.  
Certainly, it wasn’t because of him. He was sure Aziraphale had somehow encouraged them to grow better without any of Crowley’s usual threats.

“Good,” the angel started, standing up from his chair, “so I’ll go close the bookshop,” he said, with a note of sadness in his tone.

“You really want to?” Crowley inquired, gently, “do you really _need_ to?” A little, accidental hiss snaked past his lips into the words.  
Crowley tended to have that bad habit, almost just like the way he walked. The human body was a difficult and weird thing to handle, sometimes.

The angel gazed at him, not sure on how to feel. That was the tone Crowley had used to remind him his bookshop had burnt down, on that bench while waiting for his bus. It was a _soft_ tone, full of sympathy. That was the tone the demon had used to ask him if it was good for him to stay at his place. The night Aziraphale had decided he could just allow himself something more.

No more sides.

No more wars. Aziraphale didn’t have to push Crowley back anymore.

“Not sure I want to lose all the books,” Aziraphale looked crestfallen at the thought, almost pouted the way Crowley was so used to do himself.

“We could bring them along,” he offered with a strange twist of his mouth, immediately seeing his angel’s eyes bright up, “how does that sound?”

Aziraphale moved in his seat, almost squirmed at the thought. He smiled up at the demon, trying (and failing) not to look _too_ fond of this new idea.

“That would be –” he sighed to himself in happiness, “– splendid,”

Crowley nodded briefly and walked towards the plants, “or,” he started quietly, “we could just stay here, on Earth,”

Aziraphale emitted a surprised hum from the back of his throat, “but, don’t we deserve some… holiday, my dear?”

He sounded offended, or something really similar to that. Crowley touched one of his plants, pressing his thumb on the luxuriant leaf, “yes, yes we do,” came the thoughtful reply.

“Two weeks,” Aziraphale prompted then, out of the blue. They had fallen into a silence once again, not that Crowley wasn’t fond of the silence, he liked it, that strange ringing into his ears even though no one was emitting a single sound. What he wasn’t fond of was falling.  
“Two weeks on Sirius and we will come back,” he explained further, words curling and shaping themselves around Aziraphale’s harmonious accent.

He stood up, while Crowley considered him with a swift look, “Yes,” he replied, protracting the ‘s’ sound a bit too much maybe, but the angel didn’t pay that too much attention. “Two weeks, that be it,” he indulged, turning around to gaze at the happiest of the angels.

Aziraphale stood close to him and reached out to Crowley, towards his neck.

The demon followed that hand, with suspicious and questioning snake-like eyes, “What are you doin’,” he slurred into a question.

Aziraphale finally reached for the slim scarf Crowley had around his neck, “Huh?” He said, giving it a slight and gentle tug, “There it is, yes,” he said, satisfied with himself.

“What?” He beamed, looking at Crowley with wide eyes and his hands on his own chest as always.

“Go on, angel,” he replied, “what other stars do you know?”

*

The sheets swished and creased underneath Aziraphale’s weight. Crowley was there. To be fair, he had been there for quite some time already.  
His wings where spread out on the mattress, limp. The white of the covers created a stark contrast with the darkness and blackness of the demon’s feathers. They cast shadow just below themselves.

Even the bedspread looked darker.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale cooed and moved closer to the demon, careful not to touch his delicate wings, “they are beautiful,” he commented, bewildered.

Crowley glanced back, just over his own shoulder, to observe Aziraphale. The angel was still admiring the black feathers in front of him, beaming. He was resisting the human-like urge to touch what its thought to be forbidden, Crowley knew that.

“They’re just wings,” the demon whispered. Crowley removed his hands, previously pressed down on the bed, to stretch a bit the muscles of his human body.

That was a nuisance he certainly wouldn’t miss.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aziraphale scolded, watching as Crowley turned towards him, “they are _your_ wings,” he said, as the obvious. Then, something crossed the angel’s mind and his face clouded over. “Did it hurt?” He asked, a twinge of pain swelling into his chest.

Crowley smirked, “what, when I fell from Heaven?” He said, singsonging.

Aziraphale blinked, “Yes, of course,”

Crowley should have gotten used to Aziraphale knowing nothing about pick-up lines by that moment, but the truth is he wasn’t. Even if he always hoped.

That was his major problem after all, _hope_. It was not something that would suit a demon really; but it suited Crowley.

“Don’t remember,” he mumbled, shrugging a shoulder. Some feathers shifted on the bed at the movement, “I didn’t fall,” he highlighted, his voice cracking as usual mid-sentence, “I just hauled off,”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, “That is a very American thing to say,” he considered.

Crowley made a face at that, “Learned it somewhere,”

“In any case, I find them marvelous to look at,” Aziraphale said, as he dared to brush his fingertips against a black feather. He outlined it with his forefinger, reaching its root and then traveling back to the pointy tip.

It was soft and nice, warm against his skin.

Crowley followed the angel’s finger, with his snake eyes glowing in the darkness of the room. It was… _nice_ to have someone touch his wings after more than six thousand of years.

“They burnt,” Crowley blurted out, gazing up into Aziraphale’s blue eyes, when the angel looked at him. “While I was… sauntering downwards,” the demon explained with a vague gesture of his hand, “I felt them burning from my back,”

Aziraphale sighed quietly, “I am so sorry, Crowley,” he said, gloomy, “perhaps, you could –”

“Nonsense, angel,” Crowley interrupted him. Aziraphale’s hand was right there, so easy to reach and hold. Crowley eyed it for a second. “I grew used to them,” he finished.

Aziraphale said nothing in return.

He gazed up at Crowley once again, and waited for him to make him some more room on his right. Aziraphale opened his mouth to say something. He shut it back right after.

“What is that?” Crowley asked, nudging Aziraphale’s shoulder with his right wing’s bone. A silent offer. A silent need.

The angel shook his head, “It’s our last day on Earth,”

Crowley pouted, “It is,” he confirmed. He nudged Aziraphale again, this time, almost risking to hit him. At that, the angel took the hint, moving a delicate hand from his thigh to the demon’s wing. “Right, I made sure no one would touch your bookshop,” he added quietly.

Aziraphale gaped, “I’m sorry, I think –”

“You heard it right, angel,” Crowley cut him off, “you won’t have to worry about it, not until we come back, anyway,” he voiced out. He turned around, offended Aziraphale had stopped tracing the shape of his feathers.

He looked up at him, “What?”

Aziraphale seemed to bring himself back with just that question. He swallowed dryly, “Nothing,” he dismissed.

“So,” Crowley resumed in a sigh, “Sirius?” He asked.

The angel nodded, “Sirius it is,” he replied. His angelic hand went back to caress Crowley’s feathers with gentle and calm movements.  
They were just like burnt skin, after all. They were like two scars. Two scars Crowley had always had to bring along.

For the eternity.

“Won’t you sleep tonight, dear?” Aziraphale asked gently.

Crowley loved sleeping and that was no mystery. He had slept almost through an entire century once, and he wasn’t afraid of doing it once again.

“Like you said, it’s our last day on Earth,” he said, “not going to miss it,”

Aziraphale came across something rather… strange then. It was no unusual for feathers to look a bit different one from the other: they could vary in shape, color and brightness, but that was _definitely_ something he wasn’t expecting to see through the ones of Crowley’s wings.

It was little, shaped like a newly born leaf and hidden by larger, blacker feathers. It was nothing like the others.

Crowley noticed his angel’s silence and turned slightly around to look at him, “what’s that?” He said, “Found a flea?” He asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Aziraphale gave him a confused look, “No, not precisely, I – look over here,” he suggested, pointing the pad of his index to a white spot in Crowley’s wings, “you see that?”

The demon squinted a bit his eyes, a golden yellow shimmering in the room, “Can’t see anything, really,” he replied.

“Oh,” Aziraphale frowned at himself, while looking down at the little, white feather, “but it’s _right_ here, take a better look,”

Crowley snorted out a sigh, “Yes, they are born like that,” he explained, “then turn black,” he added.

Aziraphale blinked at him, but didn’t have the time to say something back.

They didn’t need to breathe, but that didn’t stop the demon from taking a brief breath in. “Come, come over here,” Crowley said, pushing his wing to Aziraphale’s back gently, “lay down,”

“Are you sure it won’t hurt you?” Aziraphale asked, following his demon’s request and laying down.

Crowley suppressed the need to tell his angel to shut up already and shook his head no. As he laid down as well, he encircled Aziraphale’s body with his dark wing, covering him entirely.

“Oh,” Aziraphale murmured, when the only thing he could see now were Crowley’s eyes, “this is nice,”

It was just like a dark blanket around them, but to the angel, that was the universe making itself a blanket to shelter him.

“Just reciprocating,” Crowley murmured, breaking the lull. Aziraphale’s hand was not closer than it was before, but Crowley could see it better now, for some reasons.  
It looked way warmer than before, (Crowley could really _see_ its heat, after all) it was shaped perfectly on the sheets, as if God Herself had done that.

Crowley almost laughed at himself, _of course_ God Herself had done that.

Just like She had created him. It couldn’t be wrong.

It couldn’t be wrong, if She created it.

Aziraphale wanted to reply, he was about to. But Crowley reached for his hand to hold it, and everything else was just a twinkling yellow in the dark and a new, fresh and warm at the same time, wave of _love_ inside his chest.

Aziraphale held his breath for some seconds, then released it in a shudder.

The universe really was amazing.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're still here reading these notes, thank you. I really hope you liked it.


End file.
